


the death of ferdinand von aegir

by howlish



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Depictions of depression, Gen, Implied Murder, i had to get this out of me, implied suicide, the point is ferdinand makes me sad!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27972617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlish/pseuds/howlish
Summary: An alternate take on the Hubert-Ferdinand A support. CF-based drabble.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir & Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	the death of ferdinand von aegir

**Author's Note:**

> this little drabble has been plaguing me for so long. i've got a pretty strong opinion of how ferdinand feels in the crimson flower route-- and how edelgard and hubert had to get him there to make him a non-threat. that combined with hubert and ferdinand's A support lead us here!
> 
> please mind the tags folks!!

Meetings with Hubert had come fewer and farther between as the war raged on, and the Empire ever gained ground. The lack of meetings came with mixed feelings, of course— Ferdinand was spared the withering looks, the infuriating dismissals, the fights that got them nowhere. But he had also been given less and less pull over the Empire’s decisions. As the war grew bloodier, more morally depraved, his voice came ever quieter.

Once, Ferdinand had dared to bare his fangs, to call Edelgard’s conquest what it was, to argue for a peaceful way. Once.

These days, he could not muster up the energy. He woke every day in a haze of ineffective misery, spent a few hours too long unable to leave his bed (no one noticed), and tried to recall the taste of righteous fury on his tongue, when the sword in his hand felt like a weapon instead of a toy. Before they had defanged him.

So naturally, a summons from Hubert set him on edge. It brought him to a quiet little alcove, one Ferdinand had become quite fond of on his more moribund days, and he was somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of Hubert knowing he liked it. He didn’t think Hubert watched him that much, anymore. He wanted Hubert to _stop_ watching him that much, anymore.

He sat at the garden table to wait for Hubert, and tried to enjoy the warmth of the sun, but the first tendrils of winter sat hidden beneath the heat, giving the barest unpleasantness to the air. Maybe it would have been better to meet inside, Ferdinand thought, as if he had ever had a choice in the matter.

Hubert’s arrival was unannounced— one moment Ferdinand was alone, the next the man’s hand was on his shoulder, his smirk at Ferdinand’s jolt of surprise barely hidden beneath.. what was it meant to be? A smile? For what it was worth, he did appear genuinely pleased, for once. “Hubert. What did you call me for?”

“You’ve been doing quite well, of late.”

“..What?” It took a moment to be certain, but— yes, that was undeniably praise. Perhaps Ferdinand should have been pleased, he had ever sought success, but instead he only felt more unsettled.

So surprising was Hubert’s arrival and opening words, Ferdinand had missed that he was carrying two items: A teacup, which he placed in front of Ferdinand, and a full pot. “Your performance has been showing marked improvement,” he continued as he leaned over, too close, to pour the steaming tea.

Ferdinand half-expected it to be purposefully spilled, but it was picture perfect, as if pouring for Edelgard herself, and then Hubert seated himself across the table. “You didn’t bring anything for yourself?”

“There was no need. Today is about _you_. A celebration of your growth in the Empire and in furthering Lady Edelgard’s ambitions.”

“This is.. odd, Hubert. Uncomfortable, even. It is not like you to pile on praise like this.”

“I am only giving what is due. Is the tea not to your taste?”

Hesitantly, Ferdinand reached for the cup. The warmth would be good to fight off the barest tinge of cold in the air, already provided some small comfort in his hands. He lifted the tea, closed his eyes to inhale the aroma as always, and the acrid smell was harsh amongst the familiar scent of Seiros tea.

Hubert was not trying to be subtle.

His eyes fluttered open again, his heart in his stomach. Hubert was still smiling.

“The last dregs of discontent in the Empire have quieted with Aegir’s troops.” The last flames of rebellion, the last people willing to fight Edelgard’s methods. The last to follow Ferdinand’s long-failed beliefs. “It would not have been possible without you, Ferdinand.”

Now he could hear it properly, the thing that made the praise feel so deeply unpleasant: Hubert was speaking as if to a tamed dog. He was half a breath away from a _good boy._

“Does Edelgard know you’re doing this?” He fought the roiling fear in the pit of his stomach to speak clearly, to not allow any sign of wavering. Goddess, he wished he could feel angry.

Hubert did not miss a beat, did not acknowledge he was being called out directly. “There was no need to inform her; I am simply expressing my appreciation for your efforts. And anyway, I thought I might cheer you up. _Boost your morale.”_

“My morale is _fine.”_ Ferdinand was not a good liar, it came out pained, his grip on the poisoned tea tightening.

Hubert hummed. “Is that so? Dorothea’s been quite worried, lately.” He leaned almost imperceptibly closer across the table, and Ferdinand leaned back just as much. “She fears you may be some danger to yourself.”

Ferdinand’s lips parted uselessly, his breath halted as the full implications finally settled in. He grimaced openly, looking away from the treacherous snake that would sing him praises in his final hour.

“If you’re going to make it look like a suicide, you could have at least granted me the dignity of choosing the method.”

Hubert leaned back, and stood up. “I have no idea what you mean. Have a good night, Ferdinand.”

And he left.

It was several minutes before a sob finally broke from Ferdinand, quiet and solitary. Even in this, the choice was already made.

Before the tea could grow cold, he took a deep breath. He could run, but where would he run to? With the quashing of every voice of dissent, the hope of an Empire he could live with died. He had already lost in every way that mattered. Failed his people. Failed his name. Failed his Empire.

Ferdinand lifted the tea to his lips, and tried to focus on the flavor.


End file.
